


Snippet of Steve Rogers

by asweetstone



Series: Random ramblings [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetstone/pseuds/asweetstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random ramblings from Steve's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snippet of Steve Rogers

Adjusting to the 21st century is difficult. Captain Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America, thinks for perhaps the hundredth time that day, perched on wobbly scaffolding and punching a robotic spider through its skull. It feels like he is trapped in a fantastic science fiction novel, where motion pictures were three dimensional, communication face to face across continents is the norm, and everywhere he looks new and unheard of foods are available. It is daunting, to say the least. But at the same time he feels a sense of detachment. It is as if the Steve Rogers of old is floating through this loud new world, shaking his head incredulously, expecting to wake up soon and find himself back in the trenches of the war, or in his old Brooklyn apartment, wheezing his lungs out. Everything is real. Everything is surreal. And Steve Rogers does not belong.

Even when he is fighting alongside his team, the sense of incredulity does not fade. Sure, the mechanics of battle ground him to a certain extent. Watching out for his team, adjusting his strategy, thinking on his feet. Yet his new enemies are, quite literally, out of this world. Aliens, overgrown animals, prehistoric creatures. His shield is slicing through tentacles and robots, where it used to be up against mere human flesh and blood. And his shield's been modified too, fixed with a homing device, and a magnetized holder fitted to his wrist. So even on the battlefield, as he watches the graceful kicks of Natasha, the fatal accuracy of Clint, the brute strength of Bruce, and the breathtaking lightning strikes of Thor, the dream-like quality of his perception does not diminish. 

"Cap!"

Someone barks in his ear. Tony, Ironman. What was that for? He wonders blandly. The fight iss all but over. Tony was guarding the perimeter, his mind supplies, herding the last few robotic spiders towards the center of the fray where Thor and Bruce are. 

The impact hits him from the side. A sharp pain radiating through the left side of the body. He loses his grip on the scaffolding and plummets, right hand still grasping the detached leg of a spider. 

And then he is falling. All the way from the twentieth? Thirtieth floor?

He closed his eyes. Perhaps this is it. Time to stop his wade through the future. Time to wake up from the dream. 

Something, someone, tackled him in mid-air, the contact bringing a fresh burst of pain from his wounds. 

"I got you Cap!"

Tony.

And then they are soaring. A streak of red and gold and blue. And Tony's curses filters through his ear piece. The mutterings trickled to a stop when Tony realised he was unusually quiet. 

"Cap. You alright? Anything broken? Shit the burn looks bad, fractured ribs? Jarvis. Run scan..."

"Tony." Steve cuts in, taking a deep breath. It jars the wounds. And he feels the firm grip of Ironman on his waist. He looks at this man. His team-mate. The guy who opened his home to Steve, who taunted him endlessly for his old-fashioned preferences while loading up his device with the most comprehensive list of major world events since the 1940s, who bought him easels and paints while extolling the virtues of digital art, who hid his pain behind a snarky persona and his heart in a suit of flying metal armor. 

They all have demons. Yet here they all are. 

He looked at Tony. As if he could make out his eyes through the glowing eye slits. And smiled. 

"Let’s go home."


End file.
